Author's note: Hey, you found this story in the Nifty gay archive site, so you ought to know that it contains graphic adult male-male sex. Hopefully, it also has a story you will like. If you aren't supposed to read this stuff, please don't. Otherwise, Enjoy. I love email. Mikey.
My email address is: mikey@maileditor.com My author page is: http://www.eroticstories.com/unreg/g/author.php?id=237 Or if you have an ES login: http://www.eroticstories.com/my/author.php?id=237
Jordan's Story:
The runaway shivered and pulled his collar higher as he trudged down the side of the highway. The sun was starting to set and the wind picked up as the gray sky threatened to dump its load of water on his defenseless body. He glanced up at it and shrugged without pausing. It did not matter. Anything was better than what he had left.
There was a truck stop a few more miles down the road that had a lobby. He should be able to spend a few hours there if he was careful to avoid the cops that patrolled that section of the highway.
The boy heard a truck approaching and without bothering to look back just moved off the shoulder into the grass. Very few cars had passed him and none had shown any inclination to pause for a passenger. As he heard the vehicle slow, he glanced up warily. The window rolled down and a pair of blue eyes stared at him from underneath a faded John Deere cap.
"Hey, want a lift?" the trucker asked in a soft drawl.
A brief flash of alarm shot through the boy. Every kid learns about strangers in school now. Then he nodded. He would take the risk. It was worth it to get further away from here.
"Yes, sir." He answered politely and swung up into the warm cab.
He felt the trucker studying him as he fastened his seatbelt. He leaned back against the seat, tucking his chilled fingers under his arms to warm them. The guy had to be wondering what he picked up. He knew what the man was seeing wouldn't alarm him too much.
About 5'10", shoulders wide, hips narrow, still slim from boyhood, but with a promise of muscles to come. His brown hair was slightly shaggy and wind-blown, his skin tanned and reddened from the cold. His face only saved from being too pretty by the slight crook in his nose. Faded jeans and a gray T-shirt with a jeans jacket worn at the elbows. Old work boots worn slightly at the heels with ragged laces. He looked like almost any other boy from this rural area. Except for the rapidly darkening bruise under his eye.
"My name's Nate. I'll be going south on this road for a while before I turn off. Where you headed, kid?" The man asked curiously.
"Away." The terse reply to the question avoided the issue of a name.
The truck driver snorted. "You runnin' from home? Awfully young to be on your own."
"I'm old enough."
Another snort. "Nice shiner," Nate commented wryly.
"Birthday present from Pa," the boy said sarcastically.
"Oh."
Silence fell for a few miles. The radio played country music from the city about 30 miles behind them. The dull roar of the wheels and the steady rhythm of the wipers were hypnotic. Despite his discomfort in the strange truck, and the problems he hoped that he had left behind him, the boy drifted into an uneasy doze.
Nate glanced over at the kid he had picked up. Obviously a runaway. Equally obviously he had problems at home. But, damn, he was cute. Sleeping, the distrust and wariness relaxed out of his face, he looked awfully young.
Nate shook his head and mentally smacked down his automatic reaction to check out the body on such a good-looking male.
'This kid has enough problems. That bruise wasn't an accident. Oh well. I'll be home soon and there's a couple of guys I can look up to take care of anything physical that comes up. And as horny as I am after this long cross-country trip, something is definitely going to come up without much encouragement.'
Nate grimaced. He was just a bit lonely. Jim had left him after two years, tired of his long absences. At least that was what he claimed. Since Nate's family had never liked Jim, there were probably other pressures involved also. Even though their breakup had been fairly friendly, he was still conscious of the empty place in his heart. He hadn't really been in love, but still the habit was hard to break. He'd get over it.
'Damn, the storm is getting worse. I can barely see past the hood in the sheeting rain. If I don't see a motel or something soon, I'm gonna pull over at the next truck stop and wait for the worst of it to blow over.' He squinted. Dimly, in the distance, he saw neon blinking through the water. 'Vacancy. What a wonderful word.'
Nate pulled over and jumped out, dashing in to the desk. A sleepy clerk peered through the office door, then decided to come out and see what he wanted. Yeah, he had a room, twenty-five for the night, be out by 11 am.
'Not a problem,' Nate thought. 'I need to hit the road at dawn to make up for the lost time. But I'm really tired and a few more hours won't really matter. I made good time yesterday, now that the construction is done from that stretch back before the city.'
He got the room key and dashed back to the truck, pulling it around back. Luck stayed with him. There was a parking space right across from his room.
He woke the boy.
"Hey, kid. Rain's really bad. I need to stop for a few hours. You're welcome to crash if you want. I need to head out again come sun up."
The boy started awake and stared at him suspiciously for a second, obviously wondering who he was and where they were. Then he remembered and his face lightened a little, though not much. He glanced around at the sheets of rain and sharp flashes of lightning. He nodded at the trucker.
"Thanks, sir."
Nate laughed. "I told you. I'm Nate. Don't call me sir. I keep looking for my Dad when you do that."
The boy flinched slightly and then nodded. "Okay Nate."
Nate waited a second while he dug for his kit bag from behind the seat. "You got a name, kid?" he finally asked.
"Jordan." The boy answered after a short pause.
Nate's brows went up, but he didn't say anything except, "Room 112, right across the lot."
He waited until the boy swung down from the cab, then locked the doors. Sprinting across the parking lot, he dodged the puddles revealed by the lightning flashes. At the door, he fumbled with the wet key for a second, then got the door open.
The room was actually a pleasant surprise. From the looks of the clerk, he had expected something a little dingy and worn. The room was clean, with decent, but thin, towels. It even smelled clean. A lot of the motels had a smoky or sweaty smell to them. He grinned at the boy, no, Jordan.
"Hey, this ain't bad." Nate said, heading for the back of the room. He turned on the water curiously and the thick stream of water that heated immediately surprised him. "Oh man. That's it." He stuck his head out of the bath and told the kid, "I'm taking a shower. TV's free with the room." He yanked off his wet jeans and stood under the pounding water until he felt like a well-boiled lobster.
Rubbing dry with the towel, he realized that he had not brought any clothes with him. No problem. He wrapped the towel around his hips and went out of the steamy bath, leaving the blower on to dry it out. The boy was sitting in the chair, not really watching the news and looked up immediately when he came in the room.
"Go try out that shower, Jordan. You won't believe the water pressure." Nate exclaimed enthusiastically.
Jordan obediently rose and trailed into the other room. He did not really want to shower with a stranger in the same room, but the habit of obeying without question was too strong for him to break. He sighed as he stood under the water. He started to hurry, then realized that he didn't have to.
No one here would beat him for using too much water. He could even turn it up as hot as he wanted. For the first time in a very long time, he really enjoyed a long, slow shower.
When he got out, he didn't know what to do with his wet clothes. He decided to follow Nate's example and wrapped the towel around his waist. He steeled himself for what he knew would happen when he went back into the main room. He had seen the trucker's magazines under the seat of the truck. The picture of two guys kissing on the cover was more than enough explanation. He cringed mentally, then shook himself.
'It doesn't matter. Nothing I haven't done before. At least Nate's clean, and not ugly.' He made himself straighten his shoulders and walk out the door.
"Hang your wet stuff on the chair by the radiator. It should be dry by the time we leave." Nate said absently, without looking away from the sports updates he was avidly watching.
"Hot damn. Look at that catch." He said happily. "And no one between him and the goal. Yes!"
He cheered as the receiver scampered in for the winning touchdown. He flipped off the TV and flung himself back against the pillows against the headboard.
"This is going to be a great season." He rolled over suddenly and looked at the boy standing quietly beside the bed. "Hey, Jordan. You better hit the sack. We're leaving early."
His sudden move surprised the boy, who flushed slightly. Nate looked astonished. 'He was checking me out!' Nate knew that he looked good. At twenty-three, he was just over six feet tall and still built like the quarterback he had been in high school, just a few more muscles now. Even though he spent long hours in the truck, he made sure that he ran when he could. Also, he did a lot of the cargo loading himself and it showed in his chest and shoulders.
His hair was a sun streaked blond and he tended to grow a heavy beard when he didn't shave regularly, which was most of the time. Right now, he had about a three-day growth of golden fuzz making his jaw itch.
Knowing the boy had been looking at him, part of that body sat up and took notice. He tried to ignore the hardening erection that was beginning to tent out his towel and gestured to the other side of the big bed. He wasn't even going to think about doing anything with a kid that looked as young as this one, no matter how good he looked in that towel. The wet T-shirt had not hidden much and Jordan was just as cute bare as he had been before. A little thin, with a few too many bruises. Nate frowned suddenly and gestured at the boy.
"Jordan, where'd you get that big bruise over your ribs?"
Jordan flinched at the wave of his hand and looked down, not meeting his eyes.
"Ran into something," he mumbled in an automatic lie.
Nate believed him. 'Probably the same fist that he ran into with his eye.' He thought sarcastically. 'No wonder he's on the road. I'd split too, if someone was using me as their punching bag like that.'
"Get in bed, Jordan. You're wasting time." He snapped, disgusted with Jordan's father or whoever had been beating up on the kid.
Jordan nodded. He had expected that order. Scooting to the far side, he dropped the towel. He slid under the sheets in a quick move, trying to keep his body covered. He took a deep breath, watching anxiously as Nate stood.
Nate tossed his towel over the doorknob to the bathroom. He left the light on for a moment, sat down on the bed, then leaned back, pulling the blankets up to his chest.
Jordan thought about Nate's body. The strong muscles that flexed when he moved. The thick mat of dark golden hair that only partially concealed the tightly ridged stomach. The semi-aroused cock that jutted out from its nest and the large, full sack that hung behind it.
'Even only partially hard, he must be almost seven inches long. Nate's body looks wonderful compared to.... No, I won't remember him, or anything else from the past. I'm finally away from Pa and that man and what they made me do. This is different. I owe Nate for picking me up. I can do what he wants in payment. At least he's waiting and not just climbing on me. One last time, then never again.'
Nate closed his eyes and propped his arms behind his head. He could feel the boy lying stiffly on the other side of the bed.
'Go to sleep, kid,' he wished. 'I really need to go to the bathroom and get rid of this hard on. It's keeping me awake.' He held back a sigh when he felt the boy move. 'Now what?'
Unsuspecting, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt the boy's mouth close over his cock. He gasped out loud as the hot wet mouth slid over the cut head and the tongue swirled along the ridge, right to where it was so very sensitive.
"Jesus! What are you doing?"
He yanked the blanket off the boy's head. Jordan jerked away from him and stared with wide, scared eyes.
"You said to get in bed. I saw your mags and I thought you wanted...." He trailed off, ashamed.
Nate said roughly, still in shock. "Not like that!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir."
Jordan had tears in his voice, if not in his eyes. He had been afraid of this. The other way hurt so much, but he knew from the past that if he complained it would only get worse.
Without a sound, he rolled over and crouched on his hands and knees, arching his back to spread his round cheeks. He dropped to his elbows and stuffed a handful of wadded up cloth in his mouth to stifle the cries he knew he could not contain. Nate was so much bigger than, than the other. He knew it would tear him painfully.
Nate stared at the perfectly smooth, round ass offered so temptingly to him.
His cock jumped as hard as a rock and started to leak at the thought of burying itself deep inside that tight young butt. Almost instinctively, he raised one hand and rested it on the cheek so close to his face.
Jordan flinched involuntarily, then froze. Shocked into sudden alertness, Nate noticed the bruises and welts that covered the boy's back and rear. Someone had beaten him badly with some sort of switch or stick. His erection sank partially. He swallowed and forced himself to speak calmly.
"Jordan. Sit down. I'm not going to hurt you." The big young trucker spoke gently.
Jordan pulled the sheets out of his mouth and looked over his shoulder. "You don't want me? I thought you wanted me to pay you for the ride." He spoke hesitantly, obviously expecting some sort of abuse.
Nate shook his head slowly. "No, not that sort of payment."
Jordan froze for a second with a stricken look on his face, then darted from the bed sobbing. Now he was very frightened. He dashed towards the door and fumbled with the lock and chain that Nate had automatically fastened earlier. Nate sprang up and put his hand over the knob, keeping the boy from running out into the storm stark naked.
"Jordan. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you. Come on, boy. Talk to me.
Tell me what's wrong. You don't want to go out there like that."
Jordan leaned his head against the door and took several deep, sobbing breaths trying to get his control back. A warm hand fell on his shoulder and urged him back into the room. Despite the gentleness, he flinched. Then, he stood and faced the other man. He studied Nate's face for a second, then nodded. There was no hate, no anger in the man's features, just concern. He allowed Nate to pull him back to the bed.
Nate pushed him gently to sit on the edge and fumbled for a second in his kit bag to pull out two sets of clean jockeys. Silently, they pulled on the underwear. Behind that shield, as thin as it was, both were more comfortable. Nate sat down in the armchair to put some distance between them. He did not want to pressure the boy while he was so very vulnerable.
"Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Nate asked gently.
Jordan swiped roughly at his eyes, ashamed of his tears. He said gruffly. "I saw your magazines, with the fags on the cover. When you ordered me to get into bed, I thought you wanted me to do that. Whenever he told me to get ready, that's what he wanted."
Nate sighed, then stated plainly. "Jordan, yes, I'm gay. But I would never force you. For one thing, you're much too young. You're what, sixteen, seventeen?"
Jordan shook his head. "No, I'm eighteen now."
Nate nodded. "Still a lot younger than me. I'm five years older than you. But who are you talking about that taught you these things, that made you go to bed with him?"
Nate was desperately afraid that Jordan would say it was his father. He was not sure that he knew how to deal with that kind of abuse.
'I wish Dad was here. He would know what to do, what to say. He always does. Even when I finally confessed that I'm gay and was moving in with Jim, he just shook his head and said he had known for a while and I was still his son, even if we disagreed on things.'
Jordan looked down at his barely covered body. He did not see the clenched hands, the jockeys that fit his slighter frame more loosely than they did Nate's body. He saw the past that he had run away from. He closed his eyes and started to talk softly. It never occurred to the subdued boy that he did not have to instantly obey an adult who told him to do something.
"We moved a lot when I was younger. The schools would start asking questions about the bruises and then Pa would pack up his pickup and we'd be somewhere else. He got a job at the lumberyard and found a little place not too far away. His boss is Mr. Smith. Pa made me go there after school and help out."
The boy's voice broke for a second, then he doggedly continued.
"When I was thirteen, Mr. Smith came back one night pretty well hammered. He was mad because some whore he had picked up had laughed at him and told everyone in the bar he had a tiny pecker. He...."
Jordan fought for his composure briefly. Then went on bitterly.
"He figured I was old enough to know when to keep my mouth closed. And when to open it. He gave Pa some money and a bottle and Pa told me to be 'nice' to him and do what I was told. Or else. So I did."
He opened his eyes and glanced up at Nate. Nate kept his face straight, careful not to frighten the boy, even though he was horrified at what he was hearing. Jordan started talking again, reassured by Nate's lack of criticism.
"He did have a small pecker," the boy spat out viciously. "He was short and fat and ugly. His dick was about half the length of yours, but really fat. He used to rest his beer gut on my head while I.... The other way hurt even more. If I cried or complained, Pa would take his belt to me. If my pecker got even a little hard, he would beat me there 'til it went down. He swore no son of his was going to be a butt fucking homo."
Despite his efforts, Nate cringed slightly at the picture that made in his mind. Jordan ducked his head again and continued softly.
"About a year ago, Pa stopped sending me to school and made me get a full time job at the lumberyard. He said it was time for me to start paying him back what I owed him, since it was my fault we had to move so often. If I wasn't so bad, he wouldn't have to discipline me and the teachers wouldn't chase us out of town. Mr. Smith liked having me available whenever he wanted."
The boy stopped and took a deep breath, then finished his confession, face bright red.
"Yesterday, one of the women from the church walked into his office and caught us with his pants on his ankles and me sucking his prick. He was hitting me with a switch to make me go faster. I jumped off of him and then she started screaming. It scared him so much that he shot his load all over her."
Jordan rubbed his eyes briefly, but did not stop his story.
"He said that I attacked him. But he couldn't explain why he had his hand in my hair holding me down on him while he was beating me. She wouldn't stop screaming. Everyone came to see what all the noise was about. I ducked out the door and ran home."
"Pa came later. He was drunk. He said Mr. Smith fired him and the cops were coming for us so we had to leave again. He punched me, then bent me over the woodpile. That's where he straps me whenever I'm bad. He started hitting me hard. Then, still holding me down, began touching me, like, like Mr. Smith did."
The boy started to cry, the tears dripping quietly down his cheeks, but did not stop. He had to tell someone.
"He grabbed between my legs and squeezed my balls. It hurt so bad. He said I was a no-good whore. He said he wanted to know what Mr. Smith found so good about my little ass. He pulled apart my cheeks and spit. I tried to get away, but he was too strong."
A gulp interrupted his story for a moment as he tried to catch his breath.
"When I felt the head start to go in me, I panicked. I swung with a piece of wood and hit him in the head. He just went down. I was so scared. I knew he'd kill me when he woke up. I could see him breathing still. I just pulled up my pants and ran. You picked me up a couple hours later."
Nate stared, appalled. Jordan wrapped his arms around his bare ribs and started shivering.
"I can't go back. I can't." He started to cry harder.
The boy flinched as Nate moved over to the bed beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. Then he flung himself on to the hard chest and began to sob in earnest. Nate wrapped both arms around the boy and pulled him close, holding him tightly and murmuring soft words of comfort. After a while, Jordan wore himself out and began to control the gulps of air.
"Oh God, Jordan. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Nate said, rocking the boy back and forth like a small child. Exhausted, Jordan quickly fell asleep. Nate set him down and pulled the blankets over his limp body.
The tale of abuse horrified the big man. He believed the boy. Jordan's story was too bad for the kid to have made up. The bruises, and his expertise with his mouth on a cock, made it only too believable.
Suddenly, Nate shook his head, his mind made up. He would take the boy to his father. Dad would know exactly what to do. He got up and locked the door again. He hid the key beneath his pillow, in case the boy decided to split before he woke up. Sleep was long in coming to him that night.